


Caecilian Face

by Eyehologram



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, slenderman - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Just happy marriage with Slenderman, Other, Overall really lighthearted, Warning for descriptions of bugs and critters, Warning for descriptions of monster body horror, ambiguous reader like no pronouns or description except for clothes, awkward talk of kids at some point, nobody was gonna write this so I did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyehologram/pseuds/Eyehologram
Summary: Slenderman and his human sweetheart end up living together in his mansion, where lots of spooky hi-jinks occur, including foraging for frogs, screaming refrigerators, and weird relationship questions. Despite the oddities that pop up when a monster and human are together, Slenderman tries to make life as comfy as possible for the both of you.
Relationships: Slenderman x Reader - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Caecilian Face

**Author's Note:**

> It is 4am

You’ve stopped wondering where he’d be in the house on mornings like these, you think it’s a little more fun to find him.  
The first month or two had you on your toes, you admit. But it was never your husband that gave you the occasional spook, it was the house. The way the lavish carpets seem to shift and scuttle like centipedes, how the hallways twisted into infinity, the manner in which the chandeliers would get up and run from ceiling to ceiling, and the way the claw-foot bathtub began to march around with you inside of it, those were all the initial things that gave you a good scare. Oh, and that one time you tried to find the bathroom in the middle of the night and ended up locked inside of the banshee basement, he had to come save you, coddling you and murmuring “Poor thing”. He’d escort you through the halls each night afterwards. Your husband was always a sweetie.  
What makes you chuckle is when you consider the fact that he’s an incomprehensible, immortal creature who asked you to move into his gigantic empty mansion with him. And despite his cryptic (and what most people would wrongly imply, malicious) nature, he literally materializes out of thin air to your aid, usually to walk you to your bedroom at night, or to prevent you from being kidnapped by the refrigerator's insidious, innumerable hands the first time you bought groceries (He insists on handling the fridge until further notice). With everything that happens in the house, Slenderman is short to follow.  
You’re almost proud of yourself for being as settled in as you are, and again, after being used to his elusiveness, you’ve stopped wondering where your husband would be on mornings like these.  
The bed is massive compared to you, the blankets you share engulf you like a tiny, cozy maggot beneath massive layers of flesh. The tall, arched windows showed that it was still dark out, you’re awake much too early. You wipe your face with both hands in a futile effort to rid yourself of pieces of grime formed in your slumber. Grogginess leaves you as you flick a speck of eye-crust onto the rug, in which it opens its monstrous maw and extends its carpet tongue to devour it as a morning snack. You hold back a semi-grossed-out chuckle whenever it does that. You turn to where Slenderman previously lay, noticing he left a note for you before leaving:

  
Meet me for breakfast. We’ll go out for frog foraging afterwards, it is Toad Tuesday. Please don’t go to the fridge for revenge.  
You’re going to be rebellious and disregard the last part, thus, the note is neatly folded and tucked into your pajama pants pocket. You saw him write with his tentacles once, you wonder if he could write human-handwriting-sized letters with his regular hands. You debate staying in bed a little longer, fondly glancing over at the nine-foot-tall imprint Slenderman made in the mattress. As you kick off the blankets, and stretch your squishy, fleshy human muscles, you wonder if he had this giant bed commissioned by some sort of monster carpenter, or if the house coughed it up for him from the basement. You have lots of questions for the eldritch horror that is your husband, who you happen to have Toad Tuesday scheduled with.  
The massive double doors to your bedroom creak open, dwarfing you in size. The candelabras and lavish lamps that line the halls flicker and click on by themselves, illuminating your path. The morning air always makes the carpets shiver, they vibrate and shimmy like crabs beneath the sand, the heat of the lights and your fuzzy socks help their efforts to stay warm during the chill of the morning, in a cacophony of thick fabric rubbing against the floorboards. Their tassels flutter and crawl to say “Hello”. You give a casual wave back. The portrait paintings lining the walls shift and squirm, flaky displaced bits of old canvas make up their uncanny eyeballs, their pupils are far too dilated to be paintings of humans. You give them a wink. Their many chins turn away when you’re upon the stairs, you make your descent, lazily leaning over the mahogany railing.  
The warmth of lamps and candles leave you as you stray further from the main staircase. Past the empty living room, and through the empty dining hall, you were face to face with the refrigerator in the empty kitchen. Fresh from bed, you’re really in the mood for the canned iced-coffee that you kept in that evil, evil fridge, along with all those other groceries. The cruel, clammy compartment that contained your cravings of caffeine seemed to cackle in cruel cadences at your reluctance to counter its coyness, and be pulled into its countless, cold clutches just to collect your spoils. You begin to shiver as the evil fridge tempts you into its chilly vicinity, oh the humanity, the seemingly stylish, retro mint-green exterior, and it's true, multiple armed interior that unfairly claimed your groceries.  
“Darling” Slenderman’s voice creeps out of nowhere. You turn around to meet his featureless gaze, “I can hear your inner monologue about the refrigerator again.” He chuckles, brow flesh furrowed in loving confusion. He always needs a little help un-phasing through the walls. You roll your eyes, smiling and extending your hands to cup his pale face, he leans into you, tall figure snapping and twisting to step into the proper space of the room, one loafer placed in front of you on the cold kitchen tile, the other follows with a few yanks out of the void.  
He dusts insulation specs off of his suit, the fabric crackling up and down like electricity, before letting out a fond sigh, getting a good look at you. He leans down, his giant x-shaped mouth curls inward on itself with a fleshy, peeling noise to give you a swift “Thank you” kiss. His thin, cross-like lips are strange, pressed flush against your cheek. Your skin pricks up at the fuzzy shock, crisp static fills the air for a brief moment, you giggle, sliding your thumb across his thinly stretched skin, your fingers drumming softly behind his cheek. Before he can entirely pull away, you return the thanks with a quick peck on the dip of the top corner of his mouth. He melts a little, like gooey clay at your touch. He places his bony hand in yours, thin layers of veins coat the surface of his flesh, they stick to you like glue. The inky matter of his suit churns in warmth “Good morning,” He says. You smile, it’s Toad Tuesday.


End file.
